


searching for you in these offhand remarks

by ilarual (Ilarual)



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Dumbasses flirting (or trying to), Fluff, Hair care, M/M, Summer of mutual pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-14
Updated: 2018-07-14
Packaged: 2019-06-10 09:02:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15288141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ilarual/pseuds/ilarual
Summary: Victor attempts to manage his hair. Yuuri attempts to be helpful. Softness ensues.





	searching for you in these offhand remarks

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sunnydisposish](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunnydisposish/gifts).



> This was a request fic written for sunnydisposish. They asked for something from the Summer of Mutual Pining and some flirting, and I hope I've delivered. 
> 
> The title is paraphrased from a line in Vienna Teng's "Recessional," which is one of my favorite sapphic love songs.

The weather in southern Japan takes some getting used to on Victor’s part. 

It’s a misconception that Russia is always cold, of course. Summer in St. Petersburg can get quite warm, and since Victor is used to the climate in the south of France anyway, he assumed that summer in Japan couldn’t be that much different. He is immediately disabused of this idea almost as soon as the monsoons start.

Summer in the south of Japan arrives abruptly and with weeks of torrential downpour that last from the week after Yurio flies back to Russia until easily the first week of July. Even the balmy Mediterranean climate where his mothers live did nothing to prepare Victor for the crash course in humidity that is Kyushu in June. And even once the rains stop, the humidity lingers for weeks afterwards.

One morning in particular, Victor is struggling to tame his hair when Yuuri finds him in the bathroom they share with Mari. 

It’s been an absolute nightmare from the moment Victor got out of the shower, because no matter what Victor does with his hot roller, no matter how much hair butter he applies, he still has flyaways popping up all over his scalp like weeds. He thinks longingly of his mothers’ hair— his Maman’s beautiful natural curls and his Mamochka’s effortlessly smooth blonde locks. He ended up somewhere in between them in terms of texture, however, and while he’s gotten used to caring for his hair in a northern climate, here in the subtropics he’s clearly not managing so well.

He’s in the middle of longing for the drier air of April and May and dolefully stroking a dollop of emulsifier into his roots when Yuuri appears.

“Looks like a bomb went off in here,” he remarks as he leans up against the doorframe.

Victor’s eyes are glued to his own face in the mirror, pouting at his reflection as he tries fruitlessly to salvage the wreck that he’s made of his fringe; he assumes that Yuuri’s referring to the collection of hair products he’s got scattered around him on the bathroom counter.

“ _ Yuuuuuuri _ , the weather is going to kill me!” He’s aware that his tone is petulant, perhaps even straying into  _ whining _ territory, and he really isn’t sure what that says about him. “It’s so humid! I had no idea Japan would be so humid!”

“Is… is that bad?”

Victor blinks and looks over at Yuuri. His expression is genuinely puzzled, and Victor has to take a moment to marvel about the fact that he’s so far gone over this man that he even finds his complete and utter naiveté about proper hair care charming.

“Well, you see, my hair has just enough curl that when it gets humid it gets so—” He pauses, frowning at nothing in particular; he knows the word he’s looking for in two languages, but he can’t seem to find it in a language Yuuri will understand. “Mm.. вьющийся.” He snaps his fingers a couple of times as he tries to jog his memory before lamenting, “Oh, what’s the word in English?” 

He waves his hands vaguely around his head, trying to indicate the mess he’s only just managed to wrangle into limp, greasy, product-soaked submission.

“Uhhh… fuzzy? Wait, that’s not right. Hm. Frizzy?” Yuuri offers.

Victor snaps his fingers, feeling a pleased grin settle onto his lips. “Frizzy! That’s it! My hair gets so frizzy!”

Yuuri nods. “Yeah, Mari complains about the same thing whenever she’s down trying to work on the plumbing for the onsen— she’s got curly hair like our mother.”

“I feel her pain,” Victor says solemnly, giving his fringe one last forlorn look— really, the odds of salvaging anything from the mess he’s made without taking another shower are basically nil at this point— before he gives up and starts to pack away his hair products in their travel case. “It was easier when my hair was long; it was so heavy that I could just let the weight smooth it out, but ever since I cut it I’ve had to change how I take care of it. My hair is just enough like my Maman’s that I have to put in  _ so _ much work to keep it straight.”

“Just about the only thing about you that’s straight,” Yuuri remarks. Apparently the words are out before he has the chance to think about them, because he immediately flushes bright red and tries to sputter an apology, but Victor just laughs.

“No, you’re right, I’m about as straight as a corkscrew,” he replies. He can’t quite keep his lips from turning up at the corners— it’s the first time they’ve acknowledged the obvious but unspoken truth that they’re both very, very into men. It’s one of those things that shouldn’t  _ need _ saying, but it’s been nagging at him that they haven’t actually addressed that particular elephant in the room.

Yuuri is still blushing, but he’s stifling a grin as he fidgets with a lock of his own hair. “Yeah, uh, same,” he says quietly. 

His demeanor isn’t embarrassed so much as it is… bashful, maybe? No, that’s not quite right. There’s not an ounce of shyness in Yuuri, just an over-abundance of deference. Victor has seen it as he’s gotten to know him over the last few months. Yuuri has a surety to him, a solid awareness of self that Victor envies, but he wraps it all up in a veneer of excessive humility. Yuuri knows himself and is unashamed of his selfhood, but he seems wary of letting anyone else see that.

Still, the pink in his cheeks as he quietly opens up about his sexuality is  _ adorable _ .

“I know,” Victor says.

Yuuri’s head jerks upwards as he meets Victor’s gaze, his dark eyes going wide. “You do? How?”

Victor laughs. “I mean, you really don’t do much to hide it,” he points out. “You’re the first person I’ve met who’s as un-subtle as me.”

One of Yuuri’s eyebrows rises skeptically. “Chris,” he says flatly, and Victor bursts into a fit of giggles because—

“Oh god, you’re  _ right _ ,” he says through his laughter. “How could I forget about Christophe?”

Yuuri, grinning with the sort of fond exasperation that only Chris can provoke in people, finally steps all the way into the room, perching himself on the closed lid of the toilet seat while Victor leans against the counter. “I can’t believe I used to think Chris was cool,” he remarks.

“You’ve known each other for awhile?” Victor probes. The subject of Yuuri and the fateful GPF banquet had come up during Euros, and Chris had mentioned that he and Yuuri had some kind of long-standing acquaintance. He can’t really deny that he’s been burning to know more, but all Chris would say about his relationship with Yuuri was to wink suggestively, and Victor has no idea what to do with that. It’s not a  _ jealous _ curiosity, per se, but Victor can’t deny that he would rather know if Chris has more history with Yuuri than just friendship. 

Yuuri shrugs, reaching over to pick up a little round tub of hair butter. “We were in juniors together. We had a few JGP assignments together, and we podiumed together at his last Junior Worlds.”

That’s basically the same as what he was able to get out of Chris, and it does nothing to satisfy Victor’s curiosity. He can’t resist the temptation to press the matter. “So you two have been friends… about ten years, then?" 

“I don’t know if I’d put it that way. We’ve known each other for ten years, though, yes,” Yuuri says, and Victor’s gotten to know him well enough to understand that what he means is that  _ friends _ is a strong word, one that Yuuri doesn’t apply lightly.

Hell, Victor still isn’t entirely sure if Yuuri considers  _ him _ a friend, and they’ve practically been living in each other’s pocket since April.

So maybe that puts paid to the question of whether Chris has managed to sleep with the man who may or may not be love of Victor’s life? Victor sure hopes it does, but he’s starting to understand that he really should never assume anything when it comes to Yuuri. And yet, asking straight out seems rude, so all Victor can do is say: “A little longer than he and I have known each other, then.”

Yuuri nods. “He was still on the Junior Grand Prix circuit one last year while he was transitioning to seniors, he told me about meeting you.”

Victor reaches for his hot iron, which has been quietly warming up on the back of the toilet tank. It’s probably not ideal to be adding more heat with as much product as he’s slathered on his hair, but he’s come this far and he’s not going to let his stubborn locks get the best of him today. “Oh?” he prompts. “What did he have to say about me?”

Yuuri gives him a  _ look _ , but it dissolves quickly into an amused chuckle. Victor thinks it might be tinged with fondness, but he’s not sure if that’s just wishful thinking.

“You know, I always used to defend you when Minako-sensei would say you were probably really full of yourself,” Yuuri informs him, his warm eyes twinkling with amusement. It’s such a lovely sight that Victor doesn’t even mind that the amusement is at his expense.

He minds a whole lot more a few seconds later when he pays for his distraction with a burn from his styling tool on the inside of his thumb. Dropping the iron back to the counter with a hiss, he immediately sticks the injured finger into his mouth while reaching for the cold water tap.

Yuuri makes a concerned noise and rises from his seat to stand next to him. His hand stretches out, stopping just short of Victor’s wrist.

“Here, can I—?”

Victor pops his thumb out of his mouth and shows it to Yuuri, who examines it. His hand makes absent-minded contact with Victor’s skin as he pulls the injured appendage closer, and it’s almost electric enough to make Victor forget how much his thumb  _ hurts _ .

“Not too bad,” Yuuri announces. “Run it under cold water, we can get some honey to put on it from  _ kaasan _ .”

Puzzled, Victor asks, “Is honey supposed to be good for burns?”

Yuuri nods, his fingers lightly gripping his wrist as he guides Victor’s hand down to the stream of cool water. “It helps it heal faster and it should keep it from getting infected if the skin is broken at all.”

Truth be told, Victor is barely paying attention to Yuuri’s explanation. He’s mostly enchanted by the casual way Yuuri has entered his personal space, as if the little patch of irritated red skin on his hand is some kind of toll he had to pay to dispel the touch barrier between them. Yuuri doesn’t even seem to realize he’s doing it, one hand now resting lightly on Victor’s shoulder and the other still holding his hand steady under the tap. They’ve had a fairly tactile relationship so far (Victor can own up to the fact that he’s mostly responsible for this), but Yuuri has clearly been nervous about being too close, both physically and emotionally. He hasn’t closed Victor out like he did during that first month, but he’s been as likely to draw back or fluster over too much contact as anything, and this sudden close encounter is overwhelming in contrast.

Yuuri certainly isn’t pulling away now. His attention is all on the mini-crisis of Victor’s burn, seemingly no thought spared for whatever anxieties usually plague him, and he’s saying something about wrapping it that Victor honestly cannot tune in to at all. 

And then Yuuri turns his head and makes direct eye contact, his eyebrows drawing together in puzzled concern. “Victor? Are you okay?”

Victor nods dumbly. “Um. Yes. It’s fine. What were you saying?”

“Just that it might be a good idea to wrap it up after we treat it. I don’t think you’re supposed to bandage burns, but just for a little while to make sure it stays clean for the next couple of hours, maybe?”

Victor nods again, because he’s honestly hopeless about any first aid that doesn’t involve the treatment of sprains or contusions, so he’s willing to go along with anything Yuuri may suggest.

_ It’s nice _ , he thinks,  _ to be taken care of. _

“We should probably go down and get that honey,” Yuuri says after a beat of silence passes.

As he starts to recover himself a little, Victor can’t help but be a little embarrassed. He’s aware that he’s gone quiet and still from the moment Yuuri took charge of the situation, and he’s sure Yuuri’s noticed. He’s been making a conscious effort to do as Yuuri asked and be genuine in his reactions to things, but this… this feels a little bit too revealing.

And so he dredges up a bit of impish charm from somewhere and says, with a faux-pout he knows Yuuri will see right through, “But what about my hair? It’s only half done, you know.”

Yuuri does not blush and babble like Victor half-expected. He does not retreat into a distance more comfortable for them both. Instead, he gives Victor an unimpressed look. “I think first aid is more important.”

Victor’s only response is to stick his jutting lower lip out even further, and Yuuri lets out a reluctant snort of laughter.

“How do you intend to finish with one hand out of commission?” he probes, eyes sparkling. “I don’t suppose you’re secretly ambidextrous, on top of everything else?”

Victor scoffs. “Have you ever met an ambidextrous skater? Because I have, and I think not having a clear left/right divide in your brain is actually a hindrance in this sport, honestly.”

“Well then, unless you want to burn your other hand, and probably your face, too, I think you’re going to have to call it good enough this time.”

A wonderful idea occurs to Victor at just this moment, and he summons up his sweetest smile and his most wheedling tone of voice to say, “You know, Yuuri,  _ you _ could always do my hair for me...”

Watching Yuuri’s face after he says it is a crash course in microexpressions. Yuuri passes through several cycles of confusion, panic, conflict, and delight in the space of a few seconds.

“I—”

“ _ Please? _ ”

Yuuri hesitates.

Victor breaks out the puppy dog eyes.

Yuuri sighs. “Alright, I guess. Time to find out if all those years of listening to Celestino talk about his hair care routine actually counts for something.” He takes a few steps sideways so that he’s standing behind Victor, raises his hands, then hesitates, thinking for a moment. Then he sighs. “You’re too tall for this, I’m going to go get you a chair or something.”

He steps back and disappears from the bathroom, only to pop his head back in a moment later. “Keep that burn under the running water until I get back, okay?”

Victor nods, and does as he’s told, feeling vaguely like he’s wandered into a daydream. He spends several long moments studying his own reflection in a daze. His burn hardly even stings anymore, but he still dutifully holds it beneath the tap anyway.

When Yuuri returns, he’s carrying one what looks like a bar stool retrieved from somewhere in the onsen, which he plops down for Victor to sit on. Once they’re situated, he picks up a comb and separates out a section of Victor’s hair. His technique is a little clumsy, but he gamely carries on anyway, and Victor doesn’t dare correct him for fear that he’ll stop.

He studies Yuuri’s reflection in the mirror intently, watching his expression as he works at smoothing out Victor’s hair. Yuuri has such an expressive face, and it’s beautiful to watch. It’s also very adorable, because once he gets focused in on his task, his tongue pokes out from between his teeth a little bit, and it’s almost too much for Victor’s heart to handle— and that’s  _ without _ the added sensation of Yuuri’s soft hands brushing through his hair and caressing his scalp.

To distract himself from how close he is to dying of gay, Victor says, “Thank you for helping me.” It comes out a little more breathy than he’s proud of, but at least he broke the silence.

Yuuri nods, eyes still focused on a spot on the back of Victor’s head where he’s sliding the hot iron in close to the scalp. His reply is mumbled and in Japanese, and Victor wonders if he’s concentrating too hard on his task to do English. 

Apparently not, because after a few moments, Yuuri murmurs, “Caring for someone else’s hair is a pretty intimate thing in Japanese culture.”

“Oh?”

He nods absently. “Yeah. It’s something you’d mostly do for a family member. Or a spouse.”

“O-Oh.”

Well if  _ that _ isn’t something new for Victor to lie awake at night obsessing over...

Yuuri doesn’t say anything else until he’s almost finished. As Victor watches him in the mirror, though, he spies a blush rise on those soft cheeks, and eventually, he speaks.

“When I was a teenager, I used to think about doing your hair for you,” he says, very quiet.

Victor’s heart basically explodes in his chest, and he whips around on his stool with wide eyes. “Yuuuuuri!” he exclaims. “That’s so sweet!”

Yuuri’s blush deepens and he tries to babble some excuse, but Victor isn’t having it.

“Did you want to play with my hair back when it was long?” he asks. He’s aware that he’s probably a little pink in the face himself— thinking about Yuuri’s badly-hidden adolescent crush on him tends to inspire that in him— but now that Yuuri has revealed this fascinating tidbit of information, he can’t let it go without knowing more. “My long hair was so much fun, but so much work, too. If we’d known each other back then, would you have braided my hair for me, Yuuu-ri?”

Positively scarlet now, Yuuri gives a tiny shake of his head. “Even if we had somehow known each other, I wouldn’t have had the courage to offer,” he admits.

That’s about what Victor expected. Still, he wonders if Yuuri bringing it up at all is some indirect way of flirting with him. He thinks Yuuri _ does _ flirt with him, sometimes, in a very roundabout, Yuuri-like way; he’s never one hundred percent sure about it because despite Yuuri’s authenticity and transparent expressions, Victor’s read him terribly wrong in the past, and he doesn’t want to assume.

But this seems too pointed to be anything  _ but _ flirting… right?

“That’s a shame,” Victor says. And, because this whole morning has been so surreal that what little brain-to-mouth filter he may have had in the past has apparently malfunctioned, he adds, “I guess we’ll just have to make up for lost time now, then.”

Yuuri actually  _ turns around _ to conceal his reaction to that, but Victor catches sight of his lips spreading in a broad smile before he can completely hide his face.

“Yeah,” he says, and his tone is warmer than the waters of the onsen. “I guess we will.”


End file.
